


Basement Show

by Butsinceimetyou



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butsinceimetyou/pseuds/Butsinceimetyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine goes to his first basement show to see Puck’s hardcore band play, and runs into a handsome stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basement Show

Clouds of cigarette smoke hit Blaine’s nostrils as he descended the narrow cement stairs of the old, worn house. The basement is crowded with people,little room for movement. The low ceiling makes the basement even more claustrophobic. Blaine shoves his way to the back wall to lean against it. Standing alone, he takes in his surroundings. At the front of the room sits a rather sad looking set up of drums, amps, and mics. The first band is plugging in their instruments, getting ready to play. In the back corner of the room is a shitty make shift bar, where a large bald man is selling cans of Pepsi and Pap’s Blue Ribbon.

 

Puck has been practically begging Blaine to come to one of his shows for weeks now. Each time, Blaine feigns some sort of event or illness that would keep him from attending. However, on Wednesday, when Puck came up to him and said, “Will you come see my band on Friday night?” for at least the fifth time in two months, Blaine’s overwhelming sense of guilt led him to say, “Of course!”

Now, he is in a stranger’s basement surrounded by people strangers, and he doesn’t know how to act. He looks across the cramped space, in search of Puck’s usually distinct Mohawk hair; however, it would appear that amongst this particular group, it is fairly common to be rocking that particular hair style. Blaine folds his arms against his chest, and moves in closer against the wall. People walk past, giving him curious looks. His bright red chinos and his white-button up stand out from the men in grungy band tees and torn up dark-wash jeans. There are very few girls in attendance, all standing along walls, and away from the front of the crowd near the band. The smoke in the air is burning his throat, and he is so close to giving up, and leaving when he hears someone yell his name,

“Blaine!” Blaine turns around, seeing Puck shoving his way through the mass of bodies, a large grin on his face. “Dude, you came!” He says, clapping Blaine on the shoulder. Blaine tries to smile (although, it’s more of a grimace),

“I said that I would, didn’t I?” Blaine finds himself yelling. The first band has just started, and in the cramped space of the basement, it is impossible to even hear yourself think. They both turn towards the make-shift stage, where the band is playing what Blaine assumes is music. He’s never really listened to punk or hardcore, but turning and looking at Puck he can tell that he’s loving it.

20 minutes pass, and the first band is finished. The overhead music is playing through the small speakers around the room, and people are starting to talk again. Puck turns to him, grinning,

“So, what did you think?” Blaine tries to scramble up some sort of response, but Puck beats him to it, “They sucked!” he says laughing,”Don’t worry, I know. Just wait until you hear my band; you’ll love it. Which reminds me, I’ve gotta go set up.”

                “Oh, um, okay. Should I just stay here, or will people care if I move up to the front, or?” Blaine is so unsure of how things work around here. No one really seemed all that into the previous band, but from what Puck has told him, his band is pretty popular for a local house band. He doesn’t want to upset anyone by taking their spot.

                “Oh, stay here.” Puck answers immediately. “You should be able to see pretty well still, and it’s a lot safer back here.”

                “Safer?” But Puck is already making his way to the front of the room.

                Ten minutes pass before, finally, Puck steps up to the mic stand,

                “Okay, so, we’re The Nosebleeds.” The basement crowd cheers, “And, we’re gonna play some shit for you.” The band starts, and Blaine does his best to get into it. He watches Puck, who looks alive playing his guitar and yelling the lyrics. After the first song, people start moving, and song after song, the crowds starts to get more and more aggressive.

It’s by the fifth song that Blaine understands why the girls stay along the wall, and why Puck told him to stay in the back. He had heard of moshing before, but never had he witnessed the spectacle. One particular guy seems to be pushing all along the outside of the pit, moving closer and closer to the back; closer to Blaine. Blaine can’t help but feel his chest tighten as he takes a step back, colliding with the man behind him. He turns around to apologize, but stops short at the sight in front of him. The boy in front of him is tall, with shaggy light brown hair, and piercing green eyes. Similar to the rest of the audience, his attire consists of a t-shirt and jeans; however, with no rips or holes, and he doesn’t seem to carry the smell of cigarettes, but instead a strong musky cinnamon smell. It takes Blaine a moment to realize that the stranger is staring at him with a curious look,

“I’m assuming this is your first time?” The man says with obvious amusement.

“Wh-what?!” Blaine exclaims. The mans chuckles,

“Woah, calm down there, killer. I meant you’re first time at a basement show. They can get a little crazy, and you don’t really look like the usual type to come to one of these shows.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Puck, the uh, guy yelling, or um, I mean singing, he’s my friend. He asked me to come.” Suddenly, the man grabs Blaine’s arm, and pulls him towards him, making Blaine lose his breath.

“Sorry, you almost got hit there.” The man says, in explanation. Blaine turns back around. The moshing seems to be intensifying. “Do you want to go outside? I have a feeling you don’t really feel comfortable in here?” The man asks. Blaine nods, and follows the other man as he walks past the make-shift bar, and ascends the stairs, through the front hall, and out onto the front porch of the house. The man sits at the top step, and Blaine follows suit.

“I’m Sebastian, by the way.” He says, holding out his hand. Blaine shakes it,

“Blaine. Blaine Anderson.” Sebastian smiles at that,

“Like in _Pretty in Pink_?” Blaine chuckles at that,

“It’s my mom’s favorite movie.” He says with a shrug, “”What about Sebastian, then? The Little Mermaid?” Sebastian full out laughs at that,

“No. That would be a pretty great story, though. My mother is a really big fan of Bach. I’m just glad she didn’t name me Johan.”

Time passes, and it seems to have been two hours, and they are still sitting on the porch when people start filing out of the house.

“I guess, the show’s over.” Sebastian says, standing. He holds out a hand to Blaine, helping him up. “So, um, would you want to—“Just then Blaine’s phone rings; he pulls it out and sees that it’s his mom.

“Sorry, I have to take this. It’s my mom.” Sebastian nods in understanding.

“Hello?… yes…okay, but Mom…okay, I’m leaving, right now.” He hangs up, and turns back to Sebastian, “I have to go; I’m really sorry.” Sebastian just smiles,

“It’s okay. Hopefully, I’ll see you around sometime?” He asks. Blaine smiles,

“Yeah. Yeah, I would like that.” He says, before turning away, leaving the house, and walking down to the street to where he parked his car.

It isn’t until he gets home, and is in bed that he realizes that he never got Sebastian’s last name or phone number, and he can’t help but be  disappointed.

—-

Monday morning, he’s still a bit upset, but figures he should get over it. _Sebastian probably wasn’t even interested in me, anyways._ He collects his books from his locker, closing the small metal door with a sigh. When he finally takes his seat next to Puck in English, the other boy turns to him immediately.

“Hey, I didn’t see you before you left on Friday night. Did you like the show?” Puck asks, with a big grin. Blaine smiles, slightly,

“Yeah, The Nosebleeds really killed it.” He told him, not mentioning that he left half-way through their set.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Puck pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, holding it out to Blaine, “I’m assuming you met Sebastian Smythe at some point that night, because he asked me to give you this.” Blaine takes the paper, flattening it out on his desk, and reading it.

Written in messy scrawl is a phone number, and under it reads, “Call me sometime, killer. – Johan”


End file.
